


Serenade

by georgiamagnolia



Series: The Plot Bunnies of Barba and Benson [10]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Mild Hawt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:00:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27944201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgiamagnolia/pseuds/georgiamagnolia
Summary: Olivia finds something in Rafael's storage space and dinner and conversation ensues.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Olivia Benson
Series: The Plot Bunnies of Barba and Benson [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945330
Comments: 10
Kudos: 27





	Serenade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BaGi14](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaGi14/gifts).



> BaGi14, this one's yours. Happy UnBirthday and All the Holidays for the Year.

“You know we can wait on this, we could even just get another unit and stuff whatever we have to in it and worry about sorting it as we have time. That might be a better idea anyway, considering we might find we want some…” Olivia’s voice had been getting more muffled as she delved deeper into the storage unit and then finally trailed off completely. 

“Liv, we just need to shift some things back and there’ll be plenty of room for you to put stuff in here.” Rafael’s voice sounded far away, blocked by a wall of boxes. “Hey,” he called when she didn’t answer, “Where’d you go? If you found a secret door to another universe or something you better plan on coming home.” He finally found her in the very back.

“You never told me you played guitar.”

“That’s because I don’t anymore.”

She was holding the beat-up case like it was treasure, a light in her eyes that Rafael was sure he shouldn’t trust.

“Will you play for me? Please?”

“What, now?”

“Sure, or later, sometime. Soon?”

Rafael rolled his eyes and looked toward the ceiling as if asking for help from above. There was little he’d deny her in their personal life, and he knew he’d end up playing that guitar sooner or later. He made his way past the last few boxes between them and took the case, sitting it on a handy stack of boxes to open. He hoped as he flipped the clasps that the years in storage had warped it, or the strings had miraculously rotted but no such luck, it was in fine condition just as it had been when he’d consigned it to the donation pile in the back of his storage unit, steel strings intact.

He pulled the instrument out of its plush lined coffin and slung the strap over his head, settling it across his body and automatically strummed to check the tune, he turned a peg and strummed again, tuning as he did. Satisfied, he played a few chords, muscle memory taking over as his long fingers ran up and down a scale of notes. He played the first thing that came to mind, a folk song he’d learned in grade school and had used as a practice song when learning guitar much later. He didn’t sing, much to Olivia’s disappointment.

When the last notes died away into the quiet of the storage space Olivia asked, “Why does playing the guitar make you sad?”

“What?” he looked up sharply.

“Red River Valley is a sad song.”

“Well, yes, I guess so. I didn’t think you’d know it.”

“Doesn’t every school kid in America know that one? I remember singing it in third grade music class.”

He started playing again, this time Oh Susanna came out of the strings and Olivia laughed.

“Ok, point made. I apologize for making assumptions.”

“It’s ok, it’s been a long time since I played.”

“But why? You sound great. Better if you sang along,” Olivia hinted not at all subtly.

Rafael gave a side shake of his head, a gesture Olivia recognized as him trying to redirect her focus. “Too busy I suppose.”

“Well, if you don’t want to talk about why you stopped, that’s alright. But will you tell me why you started?”

Rafael lifted the guitar strap over his head and replaced the guitar in its case, mumbling something Olivia couldn’t catch even in the quiet of the deserted storage area.

“What was that?”

“Music therapy, I said.”

“Sounds cool.”

Rafael looked at her sharply, again, expecting everything negative and getting open understanding and love, as he always did, her capacity for compassion shook him, as it usually did when she directed it at him. 

“Rafa, I’ve been in therapy almost as long as you’ve known me, who am I to scoff or belittle your experience?”

He sighed and shut the case, snapping the clasps into place. He stood there, both hands resting on the guitar case, not looking at her. “When I was at university I started having headaches, debilitating blinding headaches. It wasn’t so bad at first, just a few times a year. Then when I started law school it went from unbearable to pure hell and more frequent. I finally went to the doctor who did a full work up and found nothing physical to explain it, so we talked. I was working at night while taking a full class load and he told me it was likely stress. He told me I had some choices; I could get more sleep or cut back on the hours I worked or studied or I could do what a lot of his student patients did which was self-medicate with drugs or alcohol and he didn’t recommend that. He suggested I make time for a hobby or find an outlet for the stress in a class like music or theatre or take up jogging, anything to literally get my mind off it. So what I did was find a way to work a music class into my schedule, I got credit and an outlet. The headaches eased and I managed to graduate. I didn’t become an alcoholic or hooked on speed, which more than one of my classmates did, so I guess that’s success.”

“So coffee and music got you through university.”

He finally looked up, not finding the pity he expected in her eyes, of course not because Olivia always supported him, always gave him understanding even when he didn’t think he deserved it.

“And that’s why there is always music in your house,” she continued, “it soothes your savage beast.”

Rafael rolled his eyes again, this time grinning at her. “That was terrible, Detective,” he said, emphasizing the wrong title he gave her when she was needling him.

“But you grinned, the tension needed eased.” She stepped closer and linked her arm through his, “I’m sorry if I brought up unhappy memories.”

“You didn’t.” He turned so he could take her in his arms, “I dated someone much less understanding than you. I stopped playing because I had very little time for it and she got edgy when I wanted some downtime to play and unwind.” He shrugged. “She thought it was weird and wanted to know why I couldn’t just have experimented with sex and drugs like normal college kids.”

“She was an idiot,” Olivia said decisively, “and obviously didn’t deserve you. I love hearing you sing and I’d love to hear you play again sometime, if you would share it with me but if it’s private and you want to, I can disappear so you can music yourself out of stress.”

“I haven’t needed to for years, but I would play for you again, if you like.”

“I’d like, yes.” She reached up and gave him a soft kiss, “But no pressure. Ok?”

He kissed her in return and nodded once. 

They finished rearranging his storage area and decided there would be room to store most of the things that would be left over when they merged households. Rafael had found that several boxes he’d set aside for donation were indeed unneeded and arranged to have them picked up. When they returned to his apartment they were grubby and tired and still had a few hours until Lucy would be dropping Noah off so they took a long shower that involved a lot more clinging than cleaning but managed to emerge scrubbed and ready for the evening with an energetic Noah at home.

Rafael’s phone rang and he checked the caller ID before answering, “Hello, Mom,” he said. He listened with a puzzled look on his face. “Why ask me?” More listening and his side of the conversation didn’t make anything clear to Olivia hearing only his one word answers. “Mom, I think it’s fine, I am sure it won’t hurt to ask. Hang on.”

Rafael pressed the phone to his chest looked over at Olivia who had leaned back against the arm of the couch when he answered the phone. “My mom wants to know if we have plans tomorrow because there is some kind of to-do at her church she’d like to take Noah to and she’s worried she’s overstepping to ask if he could come stay the night and go with her in the morning. They’d be done by late afternoon and she’ll drop him back by. It’s not religious in nature and there will be a lot of kids and it’s some kind of fair or whatever and anyway, I think she’d be better asking you rather than asking me if it’s ok to ask you so will you just talk to her?”

“Of course,” she held her hand out for the phone.

“Lucia, hello.” There was a lot of listening again and this time it was Rafael who couldn’t get a clue as to what the conversation entailed, but Olivia was smiling, so he didn’t worry much. Finally, Olivia broke in, “Lucia, it’s fine. I’m thrilled you want to include Noah and the fair sounds like fun, I think he’d enjoy it very much. I trust you with my son and I know he adores you. He’s going to be happy to spend time with you.”

Rafael was warmed by Olivia’s smile as she talked with his mom, and that she trusted his mother to keep Noah safe considering the events in his short life so far. He listened as Olivia made arrangements to bring Noah to Lucia’s for dinner and a sleepover. He got up and went to his bedroom and found a small overnight case that Olivia could get ready for Noah so they could leave for his mother’s as soon as Lucy arrived with him. He turned to find Olivia was off the phone and had followed him.

“Your mom is very sweet,” she came over and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Just wait, she’s still on what you’d call company manners. Pretty soon she’ll be pushing for a wedding date and wanting to plan a million things.”

“Well, we can only move as fast as paperwork and we are arranging to combine households. Is she worried about you living in sin?” Olivia gave Rafael a devilish smirk.

“I don’t care.” He kissed her and pulled her close with his arm around her waist. He pulled back before it got too involved, bumping her hip with the case. “We better get packed, Noah will want to leave for Mom’s as soon as he hears the plan.”

“Isn’t that the truth. We’ve been replaced.”

“I hardly think so.”

“Well, he does prefer your storytimes and nobody Legos like you.”

He kissed her again then murmured against her ear, “At the moment Lego is the last thing I want to do.”

Olivia laughed, “Is that even a proper pun?”

“Punish me later, pack now.”

Olivia was still laughing as she took the case and went to the spare bedroom where Noah’s things were, realizing as she did that it would soon not be a guest room or a spare room, but Noah’s own bedroom. The thought made her smile the whole time.

Noah was indeed excited when he arrived home and was told he’d been invited back to Abuelita Lucia’s for a sleepover. He didn’t even take his coat off. He checked the case his mother had packed and found that his elephant Eddie was inside and told her he was ready.

Olivia let Rafael talk her into taking Noah herself while he got their dinner ready, insisting that if he went his mother would insist they stay for dinner as well and he hinted at other plans they might make with an evening free of small people in the house. She liked where that conversation was leading so she gave him a kiss goodbye, waited while Noah hugged Rafael goodbye and off they went.

Rafael immediately called for an Uber, called for a dinner for pick-up, and hoped he timed it right.

When Olivia returned, she found the table set and ready for the delicious dinner she could smell as soon as she walked in the door.

“How did you work that miracle?” she asked as Rafael opened the oven to remove whatever was smelling so heavenly.

“Mama Tonia’s did all the work, I just kept it warm while I waited for you.” He placed the tray in the middle of the table and took off the tin-foil covering to reveal lasagna, thick slices of garlic bread, stuffed mushrooms, and deep fried ravioli with marinara to dip them in. He took a salad from the refrigerator and her favourite dressing as well as his own. “Wine?”

“Please,” she smiled as she sat down and watched him pour for them both.

He sat next to her and raised his glass, “To my sainted mother for surprising us with a night to ourselves and not making any suggestive comments.” They finished the toast by clinking the glasses together and Rafael continued, “She didn’t, did she?”

Olivia swallowed the wine quickly so she wouldn’t splutter it across his white tee-shirt, trying not to laugh. “No, she was well behaved.”

“Thank the gods for small favours,” he took another drink, “mothers are so hard to raise.”

Olivia kept laughing.

After dinner Olivia insisted that she would clean up since he’d ‘cooked’ and he left her to load the dishwasher with less grumbling than usual. She was shutting the door of the washer and pressing the button to start it when the music that had been playing softly in the background clicked off mid-song. She turned to see Rafael seated on the couch and figured he might be planning a movie night but as she shut off the kitchen light and joined him, she saw that was not his plan.

Rafael was sitting with one leg folded under him on the end of the couch that she thought of as his because when they talked he often sat at the end facing her like that and she would sit with her legs stretched out in front of her, toes barely touching his calf. Tonight, he was holding his guitar, waiting for her to join him. The only light was the lamp on the small end table behind him, leaving his face in shadow but the light from above the stove in the kitchen that they left on most nights allowed her to see his profile and hands. He strummed the guitar and hummed softly as she got comfortable and then started playing in earnest, his voice strong but still soft as he played ballads she mostly recognized, then growing in volume as he started to play songs that had been popular in the heyday of their grandparents, songs she knew had been at the top of the charts in the fifties.

“You know my grandmother loved music,” he said “and her taste in music stopped somewhere around the British Invasion so about the time the Rolling Stones were recording hits. I grew up listening to her playing records on a huge old console with a radio and record player in one side and a drinks cabinet in the other, she didn’t drink that much so it was filled with her knitting. I listened to popular music at my friend’s houses, but I fell in love with music listening to these eras that predated my birth by decades. It soothed me. Maybe all those years in college I wasn’t easing my stress so much as remembering the peace I felt at my Abuelita’s by teaching myself to play all those old songs she loved and taught me to love, too.”

“The end result is that you eased out of the pain and maybe the homesickness as well.”

Rafael shrugged, “Maybe so. Maybe the headaches were always homesickness, or worry that I’d fail and return home in disgrace, or disappoint my mother and grandmother. Whatever it was, I’m glad it’s done with.” He shook off his moment of melancholy and started another song for Olivia. He glanced up at her from under his brow as he leaned over the instrument and saw her smile of recognition, he had noticed over the Summer that she seemed to like Sinatra.

_Fly me to the moon  
Let me play among the stars  
Let me see what spring is like  
On Jupiter and Mars_

_In other words hold my hand  
In other words baby kiss me_

_Fill my heart with song  
And let me sing for ever more  
You are all I long for  
All I worship and adore_

_In other words please, be true  
In other words I love you_

Watching him in the dim light, the shadows playing across his face, sometimes hiding his features and then revealing him when he tipped his head back to sing with his full voice, Olivia was overwhelmed with a rising feeling of warmth at the trust and love this man gave her. 

Then when he looked at her almost from the corner of his eye like he would in the courtroom when he would try a case and check to see if she was there behind him, looking for his cheering section that he trusted to be there no matter the verdict, another feeling rose, one that was much less innocent. That look used to be assurance and confidence shared, now it was pure hot connection that she knew her young friend and nanny would call ‘sex onna stick’ and she couldn’t disagree at all. She thought that perhaps they had been looking at one another with longing for so long that they hadn’t realized it because it had been gradual until suddenly they recognized each other in that look, recognized their love was full and complete and they were finally ready to admit to themselves what their hearts had been trying to tell them all along. 

Olivia wanted to wrap around him and never let go, she wanted to tell him all the ways she felt safe and content and excited and hopeful with him, to tell him how she loved him but she felt like words wouldn’t be enough to explain it outside her head or heart, like language wasn’t enough to contain what was real for her with him.

She watched him play, watched his hands almost caress the music out of the guitar, his fingers sliding along the strings, plucking notes and sometimes tapping a hollow sound from the body of the instrument like a heartbeat and was transfixed. She knew those hands, what those long fingers could do to her and for her and in her. She tore her gaze away from his hands and her mind from those thoughts but her gaze landed on his face, head thrown back and eyes closed as he sang, the way his tongue touched his upper lip like when he said ‘Liv’ like a kiss, the way his eyes opened and looked right into her, his head dipped down again and she fell in love with him all over again.

His brows made that inverted V shape that on another man would look a little hangdog but on Rafael with his head tipped down and looking at her from under those brows, the look was pure wickedness that said he would try anything once and the good things as often as he could get away with.

Olivia often wondered how anyone could ignore how expressive his eyes were, how his passion as well as compassion shone so thoroughly in them. He had been described in the courtroom variously as hard, cold, self-serving, strutting, cocky, a showboat, dramatic, overcompensating, having too much attitude with a brass ego to match. What she knew was that he won cases, more than anyone else she’d worked with, more than any ADA in the city, more certainly than his competition on either side of the table. 

What she knew was that he communicated to her softly and silently from across the courtroom or the squad room or a barroom with his eyes, with the lift or quirk of a brow or a small wry half grin or a tiny shrug of one shoulder and the tip of his head to one side, subtle gestures that were microscopic and yet telegraphed to her his every thought. His thoughts in this moment were juicy with salacious detail and she wanted to drink them in.

Rafael finished the song and let the guitar fall gently into its case, leaning forward as he did and Olivia knelt up on the couch to meet him. His kiss was everything his look promised, scorching her nerves into heated bliss and sending shockwaves down her spine and deep into the pit of her belly where a simmering warmth blossomed into need that blazed like an inferno.

Much later, laying wrapped in each other and a quilt on the couch, their heated bare skin cooling and their breathing at last calmed, Olivia leaned up and kissed Rafael on the cheek, rather chastely considering they were naked in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

Rafael looked down at her where she nestled in his arms, her head tilted back to look him in the eyes and he quirked a brow in question.

“Thank you for rescuing your guitar from storage, and for playing for me.”

“If this is the response I get, I will play for you anytime you like. Maybe not when Noah is awake though,” he chuckled.

“Maybe we can find room in the closet for your guitar to stay in the bedroom,” Olivia suggested with a gleam in her eye.

“Mmm, yes, I like that idea very much.”

They sealed the deal with a kiss that started the scorching inferno again for both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> No this is NOT a medically sound solution to headaches or stress, it's fiction.  
> I do not have a video of Mr. Esparza singing more Frank Sinatra (other than the vid I linked to in the first story cycle, more's the pity) but I'd pay lots of good money for a CD with Video of it, yes I would.  
> Dear Santa,  
> Please I need a CD and DVD of R.Esparza singing Sinatra's Greatest Hits, please and thank you with cookies on top. I've been as good as I can be for years.  
> Thanks,  
> GM  
> Reprise:  
> https://youtu.be/-mGhab5rivw  
> (The Best is Yet to Come)  
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
> And for those unfamiliar, Red River Valley is a song where a man is lamenting leaving his love and Oh Susanna is a song full of nonsense where a man is looking forward to seeing his love again. Both folk songs date to the mid-1800s and are often found in songbooks for school children, or were back when I was in grade school which was a very long time ago but not THAT long ago. :)


End file.
